


Banora White

by eveemma



Category: Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Drabbles, Gen, Hair Playing, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 12:05:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6423289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eveemma/pseuds/eveemma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I take requests on twitter, here's where the crisis core: final fantasy ones go. If I get more, I'll post more. Tags and characters will be updated as they're added.<br/>You can make requests here for pairs/themes too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Banora White

Angeal looped a rugged finger around the fading locks of Genesis’s hair. When they had been boys, foolish in their ways and habits, Angeal had always been distracted by the sheer vibrancy of his hair. When the sunlight caught it, the strands appeared to have captured the flares of the sun itself. The would would whip the layers around his face like a solar storm, and his youthful voice would recite another line of that blast poem with something of a cheer that now only echoed in ghosts of his former brightness. 

Now his hair hung limply around Angeal’s cracked fingers, giving off a dull glimmer in the morning light. The white strands mixed with red, and grey, and just made a sad sea of mess that reminded him of the fur on the backs of rats beneath the plates. 

“Stop that.” A sleepy voice mumbled into the pillow, 

“Stop what?” Angeal’s voice crackled like a dying flame, rough with sleep he’d only just awoken from. 

“I don’t need your pity.” His eyes still shone like they did they day they’d met, sharp blues and greens cutting the soft space between them like ice between their sheets. Angeal hadn't even been aware Genesis was awake. 

“And who says this is pity?”

Genesis did not immediately respond. The firm line of his lips were more telling than his words, the crease forming between his brows made him appear older only to those who did not know him. 

“I merely pity that you still act as a child would” 

This turn of words did not seem to break up the clouds in Genesis’s mood. 

Angeal lost his eyes, Genesis made a huffy motion to flop onto his other side and face the wall. 

Angeal rested his case. 

“There is no hate, only joy  
For you are beloved by the goddess  
Hero of the dawn, Healer of worlds” 

Angeal recited what he could with practiced accuracy, lauding his hero. His hero who did not turn to face him when he finished, 

“Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul  
Pride is lost  
Wings stripped away, the end is nigh”

“Act II” Angeal continued, a particular sadness welling in his chest. Letting his breath out slow did nothing to expell the aching feeling pouring in, he had no line to counter. 

“I see you’ve caught on” 

“Perhaps too late.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for dragging my back Sarah


End file.
